Asylum
by Tinks231
Summary: Joe. Cobra. Ghosthunters. And a big old haunted building. What could go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

I've had this one in mind for a while, but haven't known how to start it. I love watching all those ghosthunting type shows on TV, and yeah, I was a little inspired by Halloween, as well...

I suck at coming up with titles and summaries.

Disclaimer: I don't own G.I Joe. The rest is all mine though... :D

* * *

><p>Hannah Penton panned the camera slowly around Ward C. Beyond the small camera screen, everything was pitch black. The only thing she could see was what the small handheld video camera captured and shared with her on its screen. The tiny picture glowed an eerie greyish-green.<p>

Hannah sidestepped around a concaved hole in the old tile floor, moving slowly, the camera sweeping around in sync with her head. This was incredible. And a little creepy.

And more than a little illegal. The building was closed - actually, it was condemned. Then again, it'd been condemned for at least fifty years.

Going by the empty bottles and trash that had been flung around the entrance of the place, and the tags scrawled across the walls with spraypaint, they were hardly the first people to break into the place. Most of it had looked pretty old, though; the last date she could find as she panned over the graffiti on the walls was '96. There'd been no recent footprints.

That was definitely the case here. No footprints - no spraypaint, no bottles, nothing. Just dust, a thick layer of it that swirled around her feet like mist from a fog machine. Cobwebs hung in thick grey drapes in the doorways.

Beds were still lined up against the walls.

Definitely creepy.

_Perfect_.

Hannah turned and fixed her camera on the tall, lanky man not far behind her. "Zack, can we get the last static cam at the end of the room, please? Try and get all the beds in view, I want to be able to see as much as we can. Look at the restraints on the beds. I'll bet we get a lot of good stuff in here."

"Sure." Zack Barnett, the camera-tech, adjusted his thick-framed black glasses as he grabbed the tripod from the bag slung across his back.

"I _really_ don't like this room."

Hannah swung her camera around to the third member of the team. "Why not?"

The question earned her a dry look from the pale-skinned, dark-haired woman - Jessie - standing just inside the door. "This is Ward C. You _do_ realise that this is where they kept the people that were diagnosed as 'criminally insane'? I mean, it's freaky enough already - it's even worse when you know that. And I'm getting low temp readings already. It's six degrees colder just inside this door than it is just outside."

"Camera's set up," Zack said, rejoining them. He pulled a walkie talkie out of his pocket and pressed the button. "Ash, how we looking?"

The walkie talkie squawked back, astonishingly loud in the large room. "_Beautiful, guys. Zack, your ass looks fat on camera_."

"You've got two other asses to pick on, why choose mine?"

"_Because Han and Jess are twice as likely to hurt me if I pick on them. Han, Jess, your asses are both smokin'._"

Jessie turned to the camera mounted on the tripod at the far end of the room and gave it a thumbs up.

"_Okay, ladies,_ _head back and we'll sort out who gets to go hunting first._"

"You forgot the gentleman," Zack said.

"_No I didn't._"

Sniggering, the three left the room, heading down the long corridor toward the stairs at the far end.

A muffled _thump_ from behind one of the closed doors made them all jump and spin around.

"What was that?" Jessie asked. She glanced down at her video camera - in the darkness, her black eye makeup - contrasting sharply with her pale skin - made it look like she had empty sockets.

They waited for what seemed like a long time. Hannah's heart was pounding in her chest - she thought she might just jump right out of her skin if she heard that thump again. The image on her little screen shook slightly.

"Tell me why I do this, again?" Jessie asked. Her voice was a little higher than usual.

"Because you're a self-proclaimed Goth wannabe," Zack answered quickly.

Jessie smacked him on the arm, her many bangles and cuffs clinking, and just like that, the tension in the air was gone.

Hannah chuckled and checked her watch. It was just ticking past nine o'clock. Setup was already done. All they had to do now was decide where to go hunting first.

* * *

><p>The small band of blue-suited troops retreated, dropping their weapons in favour of being able to run unhindered through the thick forest.<p>

"Yo, Joe!" Flint shouted, rallying his soldiers.

Dusty popped up beside him, followed closely by Lady Jaye, Beachhead, Nomad, Jeckle, Storm Shadow, Scarlett, Spirit, and Mutt and Junkyard.

"We got 'em running scared," Flint said. "Not one of them gets away - if just _one_ gets back to Cobra Commander with that intel, we're screwed. Those prototype weapons might just win us some ground on the Cobra front; we don't need the snakes getting wind of them and developing their own version. Spirit, Storm, Mutt and Junkyard -"

The three men didn't need to be told what to do. The expert tracker, the ninja, and the dog handler with his dog took off, disappearing into the forest. The others didn't need to follow too closely - they'd keep in touch via the tiny earpieces in their ears.

"Get it together, Joes," Flint ordered the rest of them. "Reload, patch up, whatever you need to do. This might turn into one helluva long night."

* * *

><p>"It worked perfectly, Commander," said Crimson Guardsman 176 - also known as Trent - as he planted his combat-booted foot right in the middle of a patch of dirt. "They fell for it - the Joes think we're only after the intel on their new weapons."<p>

"_Good_," the cold, hissing voice answered. "_Are you there yet?_"

"Almost, Commander," Trent advised, grabbing a twig and snapping it. "Half a mile to -"

"_Hurry up, then. The sooner you get there, the sooner we get rid of the Joes._"

Trent rolled his eyes. "Yes, sir," he said dutifully.

A few minutes later, he and his men met up at the designated rally point.

"You mean we're actually going _in_ there?" one of the bluesuits - what was his name, again? Williams, that was it - asked.

"We're going in," Trent growled. "And you're not going to complain about it again, otherwise you won't have just the Joes to worry about."

"But that's - didn't you see the sign?"

One of the other troops smacks Williams on the back of his helmet and hissed, "Shut up!"

Trent held back an impatient sigh. "Alright. The Joes think we're unarmed, so they probably won't want to shoot. When we're inside, we split up into six groups of three and spread out around the building. You know the drill."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

><p>The Joes regrouped at the treeline, staring at the massive, rambling old building in front of them. Three stories tall, with several wings and courtyards connecting them to the main structure, it looked like only the vines creeping up the walls were holding it together - it was in a rather impressive state of disrepair.<p>

"In there?" Jeckle asked doubtfully.

"In there," Spirit answered.

"Serious?"

"Always."

She glanced up at the Native American man. "_Not_ always. I heard you crack a joke two months ago."

Flint - CO of the mission - interrupted impatiently. "Two-man teams. Check in every half hour. We cover the entire building room by room, one wing at a time starting with…that one. We'll call it the east wing." He pointed to the L-shaped wind on the far left; the eastern-most building.

"Ten points for originality," Jeckle said.

Flint ignored her.

"Flint, old places like this often had tunnels connecting one wing to another," Lady Jaye advised. "We could search all night, and not find anyone if this place has them."

"Mutt, you and Junk and Nomad find the tunnels, if there are any, and secure them," Flint ordered.

"Oh, sure," Nomad grumbled. "Give _us_ the freaky part."

Jeckle sniggered. "Hey, at least you've got the dog. They sense things better than people do, you know."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Jeckle said quickly. "Nothing. Forget I said anything."

"That makes me feel a whole lot better."

Flint cleared his throat. "Move out. Yo, Joe."

The warrant officer paired off - surprise, surprise - with Lady Jaye. Beachhead and Spirit disappeared into the darkness. Storm Shadow and Scarlett headed off in the other direction, taking the long way around in case any Cobra troops were still hanging around the perimeter.

"Guess it's you an' me, then, Jeckle," Dusty said, grinning. His teeth were bright in his warpaint-covered face.

Jeckle clapped him on the back. "Let's go find us some snakes, buddy."

They snuck off toward the building. Jeckle took one long look over her shoulder at the rear side of the sign they'd gathered at - the sign that read, "Massey's Asylum for the Criminally and Incurably Insane'.

Jeckle had thought that had boded ill enough. When she saw what was on the back of the sign, though, she faltered and grabbed Dusty's sleeve. "Dusty…"

"What?" he asked, and then he saw what she was pointing at. "What in the…"

Somebody had spray painted the back of the sign.

It read, 'Welcome to Massacre Mansion'.

"Well," the easygoing desert trooper said. "That's comfortin'."

* * *

><p>The building creaked, settling its mouldering old bones. No mice skittered through its walls. No birds nested in the rafters. Everything was still, silent.<p>

It had been a long time since anybody had set foot in here.

The cameras set up in a few of the rooms watched, humming inaudibly to themselves, red recording eyes unblinking.

The thick cobwebs blew, as if somebody had just breezed past them.

Dust, long undisturbed, swirled.

The building creaked.


	2. Chapter 2

Hm. I'm not sure about this one so far...it's not haunty enough. I mean, yeah, I've got to set it up a little bit more first...but I want more haunty stuff. Only problem is, I can't write it as creepy as I imagine it :(

Guess I'll just have to write a whole lot of ghostie stuff and practice :P Mwahaha.

Oh, by the way, this story isn't set in my usual little world...it's kind of a stand alone thing, so that way I get to kill Joes off! ...not that I like the idea, but hey: ghosty story. Has to happen. :D

Anyway...yeah. Next chapter should see things set up properly and a little more haunting starting to happen! And thanks for the reviews!

* * *

><p>"So…if there's any, uh…spirits in here with us, make yourself known to us," Zack said, glancing sideways at the red point of light on Jessie's video camera as she pointed it at him. "Um…please?"<p>

"You're so polite, Zackie," Jessie said, sniggering.

"Shut up."

Zack swept his own camera around the small, empty room. He and the Goth-wannabe nervously stood in one of the tiny cells on the third floor of Massey's Asylum - one of the cells previously inhabited by some of the crazier residents of the hospital. It was absolutely pitch black in here; there were no windows.

Zack felt his heart pounding against his ribs as he scanned the cell. It was dusty and dirty. Pieces of the roof had fallen and lay in chunks on the dusty floor. A single light fixture hung from the high ceiling, the bulb long shattered. Long shreds of rotted padding hung from the walls. A bed - a gurney, really, it had wheels - with a disintegrating mattress sat crookedly in the middle of the floor. Zack tried not to look at the shackle-style restraints hanging off the sides.

Why? Why did he let himself get talk into this _again_? Every time, he told himself it would be the last. He didn't _like_ sneaking around creepy old houses and deserted old hospitals in the middle of the night.

He sighed to himself. Who was he kidding? He was whipped, even if nobody else saw it. If Jessie asked him to go with her to a creepy old house or deserted old hospital in the middle of the night, he was _there_.

He snuck another glance at her. She was slowly turning on the spot, filming the tiny box they stood in. The stud piercing in her nose glinted in the soft light from the camera screen.

She was twenty-four, two years younger than he was. They'd met last year; both were friends of Hannah's.

"Make a noise, or something?" she called suddenly, making him jump. "Touch one of us. Smack Zack over the head!"

Zack glared at her. She grinned back at him and stuck her tongue out. He shook his head.

"Come on, do something!" Jessie called again.

They waited for a few momentsin silence. Zack realised he was holding his breath - he let it out in a quiet sigh.

_Clink_.

He and Jessie turned sharply to each other. "Was that you?" Zack asked.

Jessie shook her head, dark eyes wide. She lifted her arms - she'd taken all her bangles off before they left the base room.

_Clink_.

Zack reluctantly panned the room with his camera. The shackle-like restraints hanging from the bed were swinging slightly. "Jess, did you -"

She shook her head, dumbfounded.

"Neither did I."

They stared at each other for a couple seconds. Then, at the same time, they bolted for the door.

* * *

><p>"…<em>and the chains were <em>swinging_! Just swinging, all on their own!_"

Hannah glanced at Ash, barely able to hide a grin. Still, she had to check. "Are you sure neither of you touched them? Did you bump the bed?"

"_Swear to God, no_," Zack's breathless voice answered. "_We were standing right next to each other, and Jessie said 'do something', and we were just about to leave when we heard it!_"

"Sounds promising, Han." Ash looked up at Hannah as she stood beside him, one hand on his broad shoulder.

She nodded and keyed the walkie talkie. "Alright. Head back, me and Ash wanna go check out the autopsy room.

"_Ten-four, Red Leader._"

Hannah sat the walkie talkie on the makeshift table of upturned crates - which until an hour ago had held their equipment - and turned to Ash.

Ash wasn't what most people expected. When they looked at him, they saw the typical, stereotyped jock - big muscles, small brain, all-round asshole.

They couldn't have been more wrong - he was studying to be a psychiatrist, and was, so far, in the top of his class.

And he was looking at her with one eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"The autopsy room?" he asked.

She chuckled. "You're not scared, are you?" she teased, turning to pick her camera up.

Ash grabbed her hand and pulled her back onto his lap, his big arms encircling her waist. One hand slipped between her thighs.

"Ash." She jabbed an elbow gently into his ribs.

"Come on…why don't we put that camera to good use?" he murmured. His hands pushed up underneath Hannah's _She-Ra_ t-shirt.

"If we get something good tonight," Hannah said, shifting her hips just enough to make him moan quietly, "maybe I'll let you borrow it."

"Mmm. Will you wear that blue thong I got you?"

"I'll wear anything you want."

She felt him shake with silent laughter. "Naughty nurse?"

"As a psychiatrist -"

"In training," he interjected.

"- what does that say about you?"

Ash withdrew his hands and lifted her off his lap. "What does any of this say about _any_ of us?"

Hannah opened her mouth to answer, but something on one of the two laptops sitting on the crate table before them. Each screen was split into four sections - one for each of the static cameras set up throughout the asylum.

She'd seen something moving in one of the corners. "Hey, did you see that?" Hannah pointed to the screen.

Ash leaned forward. "See what?" he asked, all business now.

Hannah stuck her hand right up close to the computer screen, squinting. It had only been a small movement, at the end of one of the corridors. "It was…I dunno. It looked like…like three shadows. Like three people, or something."

He leaned down next to her, snatching up the walkie talkie. "Zack, Jess, where are you guys?"

It crackled back at him. "_Almost home. Turning the corner now._"

"Have you passed any of the static cams in the last minute or so?"

"_Nope_."

Hannah looked at Ash excitedly, resisting the urge to jump up and down.

He looked back. "I think you might be onto something."

* * *

><p>This place was fucking creepy as all hell. Cobra trooper Williams looked around uneasily as he and his two comrades crept through the building, night vision goggles lighting up the world in ghostly green.<p>

"I tell ya, man, this place ain't right," said the second man, Johnson.

"Shut up," the third blue suit - a stern, no-nonsense older man called Clark - snapped. His voice was loud, echoing through the corridors.

"I'm just sayin'," Johnson insisted. "Don't you think? Feels kinda…ooky."

Williams turned. "'Ooky'?" he repeated, eyebrows raised.

"Can it, man, you _know_ what I mean."

And there was the problem. Williams _did_ know what Johnson meant…because he felt it himself. As soon as he'd stepped inside, he'd felt it: the air was…heavier. It felt kind of like walking into Cobra Commander's throne room, only worse.

Much worse. This was an entirely different sense of psycho.

He gripped his .45 a little tighter and loosened the k-bar in its sheath on his thigh, then turned to Clark.

Only Clark wasn't there.

Williams turned to Johnson. "Where'd he go?"

"Huh?" Johnson spun. "Wha - he was right behind me a second ago!"

Williams looked up and down the hall, then glanced in the open doorway of the large room they'd just passed. He even looked behind the door, just in case the old asshole was pranking them.

Yeah. Right. Clark was as much of a prankster as Williams was…well, _not_ scared shitless.

"Williams…" Johnson's voice floated in through the door. Williams poked his head out of the room and looked at the other trooper.

Johnson's face - beneath the helmet and the NVGs - was white. He pointed to the floor.

Williams followed Johnson's finger to the footprints on the dusty floor. For about a five metre stretch, there were only two sets - theirs.

But then - between where the three sets of boot prints became two - there was something Williams didn't understand.

It looked like -

Johnson stared. "Are they…_drag_ marks?"

Williams gulped. "Uh…"

They sure looked like it. A double set of lines cutting through the thick dust, leading toward a closed door on the other side of the corridor.

Williams hadn't heard a thing.

"Joes?" Johnson mouthed.

It was the only explanation, right? Only the Joes could've taken Clark like that, right?

Williams tilted his head toward the door. Johnson nodded, and both men crept quietly down the corridor, guns up. Williams noticed that neither of them stood on the drag marks.

They stood on either side of the door, glancing at each other. Williams put his hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, counted to three…and slammed the door open.

"The fuck?" Williams muttered.

The room was empty. The drag marks stopped in the middle of the room. There was no sign of Clark.

"I don't get it," Johnson said. "There's no -"

The door slammed shut. Williams whirled around and grabbed for the doorhandle - only there was none. "Hey! Hey, who's out there? Let us out! Hey!"

"Uh…Williams?"

He looked around as Johnson grabbed his elbow. "What?" he spat.

When Johnson spoke next, his voice was barely audible. "I…think there's someone else in here…"

"There's nobody -"

A black figure flickered at the edge of Williams' vision. Without hesitation, he raised his gun and fired, but when he turned to look directly at it, the figure vanished.

Johnson was clutching his arm tightly, almost painfully. "We have to go we have to get outta here we gotta go…"

"We're going, Johnson, we just have to bust the door down. You gotta help, man, I can't do it on my own."

Johnson didn't answer. Williams looked around at him - only to see the man standing unnaturally rigidly, his head back, mouth open. A thin line of blood, black in the green night vision world, trickled from his mouth.

Williams made a small squeaking sound.

The black figured flickered in the corner of his eye. Williams spun to face it, emptying his clip into the wall. Again, the figure had vanished.

Williams panicked, throwing himself against the door, clawing at it, his heart pounding, blood roaring in his ears.

He stopped when he felt it. A heavy, cold feeling, right behind him. He turned.

This time, the black figure was right _beside_ him.

Williams screamed.

* * *

><p>Storm Shadow almost froze when he heard the scream. Beside him, Scarlett <em>did <em>freeze - something that happened only rarely.

Tommy Arashikage had heard plenty of screams in his time. Had been the cause of plenty of them, too. But he'd never heard a scream like _that_ before.

It was a scream of fear - pure, absolute, piss-in-your-pants fear.

Scarlett looked at him. He shrugged; he didn't know what the hell, either.

He _did_ know he didn't like this place. It was…oppressive. He felt like he was being watched, but he couldn't hear anyone apart from himself and Scarlett walking the corridors. Fuck it, he couldn't hear _anything_. It was like once they'd pulled the rotten boards off the window and climbed inside, everything had just _stopped_.

It was like the whole place was…

…Dead…


End file.
